


The Prince

by sad_snail



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dave | Technoblade - Freeform, Eret (Video Blogging RPF) - Freeform, Falling In Love, Floris | Fundy - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Kisses, Love, M/M, Possible Character Death, Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF) - Freeform, Third Wheel Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot - Freeform, dream - Freeform, georgenotfound - Freeform, just read it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:55:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27745564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sad_snail/pseuds/sad_snail
Summary: George is a prince that wants nothing to do with the life he was given. Fancy balls, corinations, galas, tight clothes, all those pose no interest to Prince George. He would rather spend his time reading poetry underneath the weeping willow tree that's miles away from the Kingdom's towering castle, miles away from his parents who don't really care about what he wants.Dream is a scavenger who spends his life in the forest, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. The two meet and become friends. But will both their backgrounds allow them to be something more, or are they forever destined for stolen moments under the moonlight?Ugh I suck as descriptions, just read it
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

"What do you think about this one George?" the Queen asked her son. She had woken her son up early on a Saturday morning to go to a fitting for some new clothes for a "special occasion". George had tried to make up some flimsy excuse as to why he couldn't go but his Mother saw right through him. 

"Hm?" George mumbled, deep in thought. He always hated getting fitted, the tailers poking and prodding at him and covering him with fabric and sewing needles only for George to walk away with an unnecessary amount of new, fancy outfits that he would wear probably once. It was all just a waste to him, a waste of time, a waste of money, and valuable fabric that could go to the public. His mother always thought differently though, and new George has found himself once again standing in front of a thousand mirrors adorned with a colorful array of fabric that could barely be called an evening outfit. 

"George darling are you even listening to me?" His mother asked, meeting his glazed eyes with a skeptical stare. George rolled his eyes and sighed, shaping his face into one of interest, trying to fein attention. His mother, not convinced that her son was really there, placed her hands on her hips adoringly. 

"Really George? We come all this way to the tailors and pay all this money to get you fitted and you're over here daydreaming!" The queen piqued. George narrowed his eyes and raised his arms, begrudgingly allowing the stout little tailor, of whom George can not remember his name, to measure the side of his torso. 

"There we go, you look lovely darling." His mother stated with admiration. George highly doubted that, every single outfit this mother picked out for him always was too tight or just not him. In the end, he would always get his Valet, Marco, to make an adjustment to the outfits to tone them down or make them just look better in general. When his mother would ask why the outfit that she had selected looked different than she remembered, George would always lie and say that she just didn't remember it right. It was dishonest, he knew, but it was the only way to make his mother happy and to not wear the downright unbearable clothes that were always the outcome of the sometimes weekly trips to the stuffy little tailor’s shop at the other end of town. 

After another hour or so of standing in front of the ring of mirrors and being forced to hold a multitude of different positions that left George feeling quite sore all over his body, he and his mother walked out of the shop with about four bags full of lavish fabrics and frilly ruffles. The bags were being carried by a gathering of servants that trailed behind the Queen and her son. George had offered to take on of the bags, not wanting the nice servants to have to carry that many clothes, especially under the conviction of the Queen who would heavily scold any servant that even so much as slouched, but the nice maid he had offered to help only gave him a slightly strained smile and said that she would never allow the Prince of the overworld to carry a bag as heavy as said.

George had huffed but accepted her rejection and joined his mother's side as the two of them walked back to the looming castle. 

"Mother, why are we even doing this anyway, I have so many clothes already?" George asked, turning to his mother about halfway back to the castle. The two had spent most of the day running errands and buying things that they definitely did not need. 

"Well, I was going to tell you later but I suppose this surprise can not wait any longer." His mother chirped, stopping her son and turning him to face her. George gave her a confused look. 

"I am hosting a ball in two weeks’ time, for your birthday!" She practically screamed. George rolled his eyes once again.

"Mother please no, I told you that I just wanted something small and quiet for my twentieth birthday." George retorted apathetically. The Queen sighed in annoyance. 

"Don't look so solemn George, I thought you would be happy, it’s not every day that your youngest son turns twenty, we should celebrate." She stated as she resumed walking, leaving her son to stumble to catch up. 

"Mother have you never considered that I do not particularly enjoy balls and large parties, they force me to talk to people I’ve never met or never liked and make them think that we've been lifelong friends. It is my birthday isn't it, should I decide what we do?" He pleaded though he knew that this battle was already lost. 

"You always loved balls when you were younger, plus this will be good for you, you might even meet someone you wish to marry." She settled, giving her son a look out of the corner of her eye. 

George slagged his mother had been pushing him to find a suitor for a while now, he knew that the ball would be almost intolerable with her constant nagging to find a nice young prince or princess to marry. He sighed in defeat, he would just have to swallow his feelings for one night and tough it out. 

The two of them arrived at the castle a few minutes later, and after a period of chaos and shuffling, all of George's new clothes were tucked away in his closet. George was just about to sneak away with his book tucked under his arm when his mother stopped him in the great hall. 

"Where are you off to dear?" She asked without looking at him, busy instructing a nervous-looking maid how to properly lay the drapes in front of one of the many large stan-glass windows that adorned the great hall. 

George stiffened, he had hoped to not be caught. He thought about lying for a quick second but then decided against it. 

"I’m just going on a walk through the woods, nothing too dangerous." He replied, fingering the edge of his forest-green book, the cover was already so torn and ruffled, he had read this particular novel about ten times. The Queen stopped her instructions and met her son's eyes. 

"Alright dear just be safe," George sighed with relief, "Just give me a quick kiss before you go." She instructed him. 

George obliged, leaning over to place a peck on her temple before turning and walking away. 

“Oh wait dear!” The Queen called after her son. George stoped and turned, giving her his attention. 

“Be back before sunset, your brothers are coming home tonight!” She told him with a smile. George nodded his head and turned once more, slipping out of the door and making his way to the woods. He took a detour on his way out, strolling through the sumptuous castle gardens that stretched almost a half-mile. 

Since it was spring, the flower beds were in full bloom, lighting up the grounds with color and giving a jaunty aura to the entire castle. George decided that there was nothing better than the gardens during spring and he thoroughly enjoyed walking through the flower-filled gardens. 

After a while, George breached the palace walls and began making his way through the forest. He had come this way many times before, the path on which he walked was woven into the ground, having being carved out by his steps over a period of almost ten years.

It took him about thirty minutes to reach his destination, which was a little clearing next to a small pond with a weeping willow. He had happened upon the clearing when he was eleven, he couldn’t sleep so he snuck out of his room and took a walk through the woods. It had started to rain so he ran and took cover under the willow. It had become a place of sanctuary in a time of need and George was so thankful for the beautiful tree. 

Snapping out of his thoughts, George passed the tree and flopped down on a large rock that sat by the edge of the pond. He pulled a small loaf of bread out of his pocket and waited. 

It was another minute or so before they emerged, a pair of stark-white, beautiful swans. They lifted their graceful heads in greeting and slyly swam over to the smiling Prince. George gasped when he saw four little babies trailing behind their mother. He smiled even larger as he watched them follow their parents, swimming furiously to keep up. He could see their little feet as they pushed through the water. 

“Hey guys, I missed you, but now I see why I haven’t seen you around lately, you’ve got babies now!” George said, lightly touching one on its head after it took a price of bread from his hand. He broke off another piece of bread and stretched out his arm, offering it to one of the bright white babies. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you little guy.” George said, his voice low and soft. 

The chick looked scared at first, then snapped up the crumb after getting confirmation from its mom. The other chicks, seeing the exchange, quickly abandoned their shyness and swam up close to George, nipping his fingers for more bread. George happily obliged, breaking the loaf into little pieces and sprinkling on the surface of the water. He watched with joyful content as they greedily gobbled up the food. George sat back and watched them swim, admiring how beautiful the scene was. The sun was high in the sky, being partially obscured by a patchily cloud. It had rained the previous night and the air was still a bit humid so the sun shone down on the clearing in thick beams. The babies swam around in the pond, splashing each other and their parents, dunking their little head under the water and then popping back up. George crossed his legs and balanced his chin on his fist, watching the swans in silent adoration. 

After a little while, the swans swam away, but now before bowing their heads and honking at George who waved in response. He picked himself off the rock and ducked under the willow. There he sat for a couple hours, sleeping and reading and before long, it was time to head back to the castle, the sun was getting low in the sky and his mother would be worried if he didn’t leave then. 

He stood and stretched his legs, they had cramped from sitting in the same position for so long. 

George’s brothers, Wilbur and Eret, had traveled up north for the winter, spending the season hunting and learning with their uncle. George missed them but he liked to have the castle to himself. Wilbur was his oldest brother and he would be taking the throne soon, their father was getting older. It never bothered George that he would probably never be king, he never figured himself as the type built for leadership. Even when he was younger, both his brothers were always the ones who would lead the kingdom to greatness. 

It was almost dusk when the castle came in view, its looming stone pillars and towers blocking out the rest of the sun. The palace was where George had grown up, it was his home. He slipped between the huge castle doors and into the courtyard. George crossed the courtyard swiftly, his shoes clicking loudly on the cobble-stone. 

There was barely no one in the great hall when he entered, thankful for the silence. George felt his stomach rumble and decided to stop by the kitchens. The head cook, a plump Mrs. Norberry, always left him a plate of food when he went out. 

The kitchens were bustling when he entered, presumably the kitchen maids and cooks cleaning up after dinner. He slipped through the large brass kitchen, greeting the maids and cooks he knew and introducing himself to the ones he did not. He grabbed his plate and departed the bustling kitchen, quietly climbing the stairs and entering his room. 

George's bedroom was probably one of his favorite places. It was nothing special, a canopy bed frame with dark green bedding and an even deeper red carpet. His walls were covered with books and a large rolling ladder granted access to the books at the very top. George quickly ate his dinner, which consisted of roasted chicken with sweet peas and carrots, then prepared for bed. Marco knocked on his door just as he was taking his tunic off. He granted entrance and the man helped George take his garments off, his fingers always fumbled with all the ties and lace so Marco would almost always have to help. George was forever grateful. 

George asked that Marco light his fireplace, for there was already wood and George did not trust himself not to set his carpet on fire. Marco had obliged happily and the room was firelit and warm within minutes. 

Once he was in his night clothes, Marco left with wishes of a good sleep and George pulled back his large comforter and crawled beneath the satin sheets. George layed in bed for a time, listening to the pitter patter of raindrops upon his window, for it had begun to drizzle. The drum of rain and the crackle of the fireplace soothed the Prince to no end and he was asleep in minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

George woke bright and early the next morning, planning on sneaking back out to the willow tree before his parents were up. He dressed quickly, just some dark breeches with a cream-colored shirt and a blue cape with white fluff at the top to keep warm. He donned his thin silver crown, emblemed with bright blue stones. It was a gift from his brother and even though he held antipathy towards dressing in riches and decorated with gems to show wealth, the dainty crown held a special place in his heart and George couldn't help but want to wear it. 

He was almost out the door with his book tucked under his arm when he was stopped by a voice behind him calling his name. 

George turned to see his brother, Wilbur smiling at him from the top of the stairs. George felt his face light up and he ran to hug his brother.

“Wilbur! I missed you brother!” George announced, his face buried deep in his brother’s shirt. He pulled back to get a good look at his eldest brother, whose hair had grown since they last saw each other. 

“It’s so good to be back George,” Wilbur told him, smiling from ear to ear. “I hope mother hasn't been too hard on you, you're about to be twenty you know.”

George sagged, pulling away from their embrace and meeting his brother's face with an annoyed one. He rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his short brown hair.

"Ugh, don't remind me, Mother is planning some retched ball for the occasion and there is no way to get out of it. I fear it will be as insufferable as I imagine." George deadpanned, massaging his temples with two fingers. Cain smiled wittily at him, finding his brother's complete disdain for anything their eccentric mother planned quite funny. 

"Oh come on now, it won't be that bad, you might even meet someone," Wilbur suggested, raising his eyebrows in an attempt to lighten his little brother's sour mood. George only shrugged his shoulders, shooting his brother a half-hearted look of titillation. George had tried and failed to "meet someone" (as his mother and brother had so delicately put it) all too many times, but nothing ever worked out for poor George. Any person he tried to court was always “too busy” or “too lowly” or one thing or another. George had gotten used to it after a while. 

Wilbur bid his brother added, saying that he had to meet a friend for breakfast down in the city. They parted with one last hug, Wilbur reminding George to try to keep his spirits up, and the prince thought he should do well to remember it. 

George left the castle and crossed the courtyard, just as he had the previous night, and in no time at all, he was halfway to the pond and the willow tree. Since it had rained during the night, the forest floor was muddy and littered with debris, so it took George a little longer to get there. 

When he finally arrived, the Prince was shocked by what he saw. 

There was someone sitting inside the willow tree, in the same place he had countless times before. The person had their back turned to George but he could see that it was a man. There was something familiar about the way the man was sitting, it was obvious he was enjoying the scenery with the same awe that George had. It made the corners of his lips turn into a feeble smile. The prince watched the man with a speculative smile. 

He obviously hadn't heard George coming so he cleared his throat, not wanting to startle the stranger. 

The man's head turned quickly, so much so that for a split second, George was worried the man would have whiplash. The stranger stood and parted the branches of the willow, and George could see that the man's face was covered by a bright-white mask. It was quite possibly the strangest that he had ever seen, there was a tiny little smile adorning the top of the mask, giving a playful yet malicious personality to the otherwise blank face. The mask only hid his eyes, nose, his strong jaw and bow-shaped lips peeked out from under the porcelain and George could see an amass of golden-brown curls at the top of his head. 

"I apologize, I did not hear you approach." The man spoke, snapping George out of his thoughts. The man's voice was deep and hearty, George suspected by his tone that the man posed no threat. 

George smiled, "That's quite alright, I just thought that no one else knew about this place. Have you been here before, I have never seen you." he asked, taking a step towards the man. 

"Not really," the man answered, "I was just taking a stroll through the woods and happened upon this clearing. It is lovely, is it not?" He asked. George took another step. The stranger was quite tall with broad shoulders and large hands. He could now see that the man was dressed in tools; he had a hilt around his waist that seemingly contained a sword, a wooden bow strung over his shoulder, a sash ladened with bottles full of glittering potions, and a pair of axes crossed behind his back. Underneath all the leather straps and rope, was an emerald green tunic, which fit the man's form snugly.

George had never seen someone dressed as so, he found himself staring at the man for longer than normal. He cleared his throat, looking away at the pond. 

"It is," George answered simply, keeping his voice low. "I was just going to sit under the willow and read if you wish to join me. I suppose some company would be nice." George said, looking at the man. The words left his mouth before he could stop them, there was something terribly endearing about the tall stranger. 

He seemed to hesitate for a moment before nodding slightly and ducking back under the tree, sitting down in the same place but leaving some space for the prince. 

George smiled slightly before doing the same, sitting down next to the man and placing his book in his lap, their thighs nearly touching. 

It was really a beautiful morning, George thought to himself. The pond was just as ethereal as it had been the previous morning, the golden sun peeked through the trees, lighting up the water and making George's eyes burn. He turned his head to the left, trying to get a look at the man without his notice, only to find a cream white mask staring back at him. The man squinted and George wondered how he could even see.

"What is your name?" The man's voice floated through the mask, calm in its nature. George could tell that the man was eyeing his attire, an expensive looking velvet blue cape and a silver crown did not speak of a commoner, George introspected. 

"George." the Prince replied simply, his eyes not leaving the barrier separating their faces. He could see the man's eyebrow furrow before they shot up in realization.

"You're the Prince aren't you, Prince George?!" The man practically yelled, scooting back with shock. George winced before he grimaced, hoping to keep his identity secret as much as the man sitting next to him was. 

"At your service." He grumbled, turning his eyes to the ground and placing his head on his arm, pulling at the grass with the other. The man let out a short laugh before returning to his previous position. 

"You don't seem all that cheerful about it, I suppose one would be happy to live a life as luxurious and grand, having people wait on you hand and foot. It sounds relaxing, you never have to do anything or think anything." The man speculated, leaning his head back against the gnarled tree trunk. George scoffed. 

"That's entirely the problem, I have no say in what happens to me, what my life will look like, or what I will look like. I'm turning twenty in a week and I don't even get to choose how to celebrate. My mother is throwing this extravagant ball that I know I will loathe. But I have to attend all the same." He deadpanned, his voice stiff. The man chuckled softly, making George frown.

"What?" He pried, eyeing the man up and down.

"It's just that I've never met a member of the royal family before and you're a lot different than what I expected." He explained. George smirked. 

"Oh it's not too bad, we're not all pompous gits with sticks up our asses." He replied with a goofy smile.

The man stared in shock wheezed, laugher blooming out from under the covert mask, greatly softening his intimidating demeanor. George smiled wide, finding a warm feeling tingle in his chest at the sound of the man laughing so boisterously. It took quite a while for the man to calm down from his explosive laughter, his chest rising and falling quickly, trying to suck in the air faster than it could leave him as he let out goads of bright laughter. 

"You're funny, George." He remarked, whipping his eyes with the back of his hand. George felt the heat rise to his face, hastily swallowing it down before it could show. He felt confusion replace the tingling feeling in his stomach, why was he so affected by such a simple compliment from someone he just met? He swallowed again, shaking the thought and the feeling from him. 

Neither spoke for a time, both basking in comfortable silence and warm sun rays.

"How long have you been coming to this spot?" the man asked.

"For about ten years, I stumbled upon it when I was just a boy, and it's been just a place I come to when I want to be alone or when I want to get out of the castle. It can be quite stressful and I predict it will only get worse with the preparations for the dreaded ball. This place is a small respite if only to escape for a little while." George told him, running a hand through his hair and over his face. The man followed the motion. 

"You know, I spend a lot of time in these woods, and I seldom come across a place as peaceful and sedimentary as this." The man said. George smiled once more but did not answer, just continued to finger the fringe along the edge of his frayed book. 

"May I see your book?" The man asked, gesturing to the novel clutched in the Prince's hands. George nodded, stretching his hand out to give him the book. The man grasped it, his face never leaving George's. George felt that it was almost intentional that the man's fingers lightly brushed against his as he took the book. All the same, the action sent shivers up George's arm, springing gooseflesh in its wake. 

"Why do you cover your face?" George inquired, his eyes watching the man run his fingers along his book, curiosity glowing behind his cobalt-blue eyes. 

"To protect my identity." The man replied, still studying the book. George smirked, deciding to look the lion dead in the eye.

"To say that would imply that you have enemies, enemies that would stop at nothing to find your weakest spot." George produced, giving the man a sidelong glance. He only just smiled, handing George's book back to him. 

"You have great attention to detail." The man told him, sidestepping George's remark that was almost a question. George did not reply, he just allowed his eyes to flow down the man's figure, admiring the shimmering bottles of potions. They were unlike anything he had ever seen before. 

"So, what in particular did you want to escape from today, see as you are here, away from the castle." The man asked, changing the subject. 

"My brothers came home today," George told him. The man raised his eyebrow in question. "Do not mistake me," George reassured him, "I love my brothers dearly, it's just that my father and mother tend to think more highly of them than their youngest son. They insist that isn't true but I have not done much to earn their respect. After all, Wilbur will be the next king of the overworld and Eret is already immersing themself in trade relations with neighboring kingdoms. I'm just George, boring, dull, bookish George. 

My father praises Wilbur for almost everything he does; he could tie his shoes and by the amount of praise my father would shower him with, you'd think he just slayed the bloody ender-dragon with nothing more than a wooden sword." George spat. The man scoffed. 

"That is bullshit, parents should love you because you’re their son, you should have to do nothing to 'earn their respect', they're your parents." The man told him. George gave him a tight-lipped smile. The man continued,

"And Georgie, just from our short interaction, it is apparent that you are neither boring nor dull." 

George felt that same, sickeningly warm, fluttering feeling pool in his stomach. He hadn't felt that way in ages, it was similar to the feeling he would get when the castle librarian's son would wink at him during reception when he was a boy. The nickname the man used didn't help his flustered state. 

He could feel heat rise to his face and this time he was unable to hide it. He stood, suddenly feeling very hot sitting there. George parted the limp branches and crossed the short meadow to the edge of the pond. He could hear the man rise to follow him. The rock at the water's edge was shimmering, still wet from the previous night's downpour. He ran his hand along the rough surface, finding quick slick. He planted his arms and kicked the ground, lifting himself upon the top of the rock. 

Fear shot through him as he lost his footing for the shortest second, relief flooding him as he regained balance. 

"Be careful." The man told him, standing close to the rock in case the prince slipped again. George scowled at him over his shoulder, he was fine. 

This proved to be false as George's foot broke a chip off the rock, causing him to flail his arms then he was plunged into the icy water. He could hear the man shout GEORGE, before he was completely submerged. He felt the ice shoot down his throat and fill his lungs as he sank deeper and deeper into the murky water, struggling and gasping for air that was feet above him. Panic flooded through him faster than the water as he began to grow dizzy. 

Before George could lose consciousness, he felt a ripple in the water then two strong arms wrapped themselves around his torso and he was being yanked upwards. George broke the surface with a huge gasp, greedily sucking in air. The arms, which he found belonged to the man, pulled him towards the shore, laying his shaking body gently on the ground. 

George fell into a fit of coughs, leaning to the side and retched up the water that had shot down his throat. He closed his eyes, shivering like a leaf. 

Warm hands closed around his face and his head tilted upwards. He could hear someone saying his name but the sound was muffled. He blinked open his eyes to find the man leaning over him, his mask slightly skewed. 

"George! George! Tell me you're ok! Say something!" The man shouted frantically. George managed a smile, unable to speak. The man relaxed slightly, removing his hands from the Prince's face. 

"Jesus, are you trying to get yourself killed, you're the bloody Prince for christ's sake!" The man said, a little quieter this time. He sat beside George, dripping water. 

George didn't say anything, just continued to lay on his back, trying to regain control of his breathing. He wrapped his arms around himself, shrugging off the blue velvet robe that was surely ruined. It was alright, he had many more like it, but the fabric could never be reused. His silver crown laid on the ground next to him, George was thankful that it had not been lost to the depths of the lake.

George sighed, this day had definitely not gone as he planned. 

"You ok?" Came a soft voice from behind, George looked up to see the man towering over him, offering his hand to help the Prince up. George only nodded, taking the man's hand in his, bringing his soaking wet body into a standing position. 

"Thank you, y-you saved my life." George told him, his voice shaking like the rest of him. 

"Don't worry about it, consider it a birthday gift." the man told him, smiling. George returned it, though it was a small one. The man looked to the sky and stiffened. 

"Shit it's midday already, I gotta get going." He remarked. George followed his gaze to see that the sun was high in the sky. He frowned. 

The man turned and started across the clearing, but George shot a hand out and grasped him but the arm. The man's bicep felt warm underneath his palm. 

"Wait!" George practically yelled. The man stopped and turned, facing the Prince. 

"You didn't even tell me your name, surely I should know the name of my heroic rescuer." George told him, still holding his arm. The man smirked before leaning down and placing his face next to George's. He stiffened, not expecting the sudden closeness. 

"Call me Dream." Dream told him, his voice impossibly low. George shivered, he found it not to be because he was soaking wet. Dream's hand ghosted his, the feather-light touch of skin sending another shiver through the Prince. George closed his eyes, breathing in deep, catching what he assumed was Dream's scent. The man smelled like honey and oak with a twinge of pine. George found his senses clogged with the aroma. He lifted his arm to touch the man in front but felt confusion bubble within him when his hand fell upon thin air. 

George heard the snap of a twig under a heavy footfall and he blinked his eyes open, finding his field of vision deserted apart from the trees. Dream was gone. George just continued to gaze dumbly at the space where the man had just been, he could still smell trickles of pine and honey. 

George snapped out of his thoughts and shook his head, showering his shoulders and the ground around him with tiny droplets of water. Walking home like this would be almost unbearable, George speculated. He had a few hours to spare and figured he would let his clothes dry a bit before going home. He undressed his outer garments and laid them on a dry rock, right in the sun's path. 

George opened his book to pass the time but found it was nearly impossible to concentrate. Images of shimmering potions, golden hair and a boistering laugh filled his head. He had no idea why this particular stranger had left such an imprint in his brain. He didn't know whether to be dismissive, concerned or curious. He pondered telling someone, he was friends with the stable boy Tommy, a young lad with a screeching laugh and a bubbly yet mischievous persona, but George knew from past experiences that the boy couldn't keep a secret to save his life. 

After a moment, George dismissed the idea of telling anyone entirely, he wanted to keep him and Dream's interaction to himself. 

George stayed until the sun was very low on the horizon, watching it as it descended towards the ground. He steeled himself for a few moments longer, his parents would probably be too busy to notice if he was home later and unusual. 

Walking home was nicer than expected and he was home in a short time. Deciding that he didn't want to run into anyone along the way through the castle, he cut through the flower beds and claimed up to his window. His room was a good three stories up but a series of long, twisting vines latched onto the stone castle, conviviality leading straight to his bedroom window. 

He opened the window slowly and climbed in, pushing aside his billowing curtains. He changed clothes, his old ones were still quite damp. 

His stomach rumbled, Goerge had not eaten anything all day aside from a loaf of bread and some dried meat for breakfast. If he was quick enough, he could sneak downstairs and beg Mrs. Norberry for something to eat. 

George opened his door just a crack to check if the hallway is clear. Seeing that it is, he exited and swiftly made his way to the kitchen, finding it empty. His face light up when his eyes find a steaming bowl of stew, laid out just for him. He devoured the meal, thankful that it was still warm. 

The prince leaves the kitchen with a full belly, his eyes already drooping. The fire was already lit when he got back to his room, he suspected Marco.

The bed was warm and his stomach was full and the room was overall very comfortable, but George fell asleep with the peculiar feeling of being watched. He dreamt of incandescent potions and soft brown hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of filler, but it took me a while to write it. I played Minecraft for an hour before writing it, for "research" purposes. 
> 
> Thanks for reading  
> xoxo  
> -sad_snail  
> :)


	3. Chapter 3

Dream walked through the forest with a skip in his step, blue eyes and soft hair filled his head, almost annoyingly so. He had taken a risk by sitting down under that tree, open to any passerby or kingdom soldier, but he was pleasantly surprised to meet the Prince. There was something diferent about George, Dream found a fuzzy feeling fill his chest when he thought of the way he smiled or the way the corner of his eyes crinkled when he laughed. 

Dream looked to the sky, it was dark already and he was late to be back. His original purpose in the forest was to scout out and look for food. He and Sapnap had started a sort of a camp for refugees, criminals, people in poverty, or people that were looking to escape debt, and Dream was the leader. The camp was hidden deep into the forest, so as to not be discovered by the King, but Dream feared that they would have to relocate with all the soldiers that filtered through the woods, their numbers rising every day. The camp had about twenty-five people in it, with people coming and going every day, looking for supplies or food or just a place to stay for the night. It was easy for people to find if they knew what to look for. 

Dream lit a torch, barely being able to see two feet in front of him, the sky was overcast that night and there was no moon to guide him home. Dream found the camp with ease, they had lit a fire in the center of the tents. It was big enough to see from about 100 yards away, but not too big as to be seen by soldiers looking. He could see a few people sitting around the fire, talking and eating.

Dream extinguished his torch, breaching the edge of the clearing and bathing in the warm glow of the fire. Dream whipped his head around to a cry of his name.

"Dream! You idiot where have you been?!" Sapnap yelled, tacking his friend in a hug, bringing both of them to the ground. Dream laughed, pushing his best friend off of him. 

"Yeah yeah, I'm glad to see you too." Dream sasses, standing up and brushing the pine straw that had clung to his back after being tackled. "I got held up, lost track of time." Dream excused, helping Sap to his feet. Subpoena made a face of confusion and Dream’s excuse but didn’t question it. 

"Did you run into any soldiers? Fundy and I were out hunting and almost fell into a nest of them. We pinpointed their location and left without being seen. Fundy did manage to swipe some of their weapons though, fox-like reflexes he's got. It was awesome." Sapnap said, his eyes glowing. Dream let him ramble on about downing a cow with one arrow, as he made his way through the camp, greeting his friends. 

It was another hour or two before his duties were finished, helping with repairs and potion brewing and even helped forge a new diamond sword. Their mining team was fantastic, venturing deep into the depths of the land, searching for diamonds, gold, iron, and whatnot. 

After saying goodnight, Dream pushed open the flap to his tent and flopped down onto his cot, removing his boots and stripping off his sword, potion sash, arrows, and bow. 

Sapnap slinked into the tent minutes later, rambling on about his day as he too disrobed. They shared a tent, both for safety reasons and to preserve space. It could be tiring to listen to his best friend's rambles and exclamations, but Dream sat through it because they were basically brothers. They had been together since they were very young, both losing their parents at small ages. 

Sapnap paused, laying down onto his cot and turning, bracing his head on his hand. 

"So what were you doing in the forest, you've never been late or lost track of time before." Sapnap questioned, eyeing Dream as he reclined as well, laying with his back on the cot with his arms under his head. 

"I met someone." Dream stated simply, remembering George and how he had saved his life. Sapnap's eyes lit up and he smirked. 

"Tell me!" He ordered, playfulness clear in his voice. Dream gave an exasperated smile, running a hand through his hair. 

"It wasn't anyone, I just was sitting under a tree and he was there. We talked for a while then I saved his life." Dream told him, breezing by the last part of his sentence. Sapnap's eyes shot up. 

"What!? Who was it!? Dream you better tell me!" Dream sighed, knowing he would not end his fight, Sapnap could be relentless.

"Prince George." Dream mumbled under his breath, a starry look in his eyes. Sapnap sat up, his jaw on the floor. 

"You saved the freaking Prince, King Techno's son, from drowning!?" Sapnap practically yelled. Dream sushed him hurriedly, and his friend shut his mouth, but the look of incredulous shock did not leave his eyes. 

"I did, ok! I mean what was I supposed to do? Leave him to die?" Dream whisper-yelled. Sapnap remained quiet, still in complete awe. Dream continued, past his better judgment. 

"He was so sweet and he wasn't, like, scared of me, you know? You should have seen the way he was, with his hair and his smile..." Dream said, trailing off as he realized what he sounded like. Sapnap smirked. 

"Looks like Dreamypoo has a little crush on the Prince." He teased, Dream rolled his eyes. He leaned over and planted a semi-hard punch on his best friend's arm. Sapnap winched, shooting Dream a dirty look.

"I do not." Dream retorted, laying back down. 

"That hurt." Sapnap cooed, rubbing his arm. Dream rolled his eyes again, flipping over so his back now faced his friend. The air was silent for a time, the two of them just listening to the dim crackle of the fire and the dull drone of the grasshoppers outside. 

"Just be careful Dream, he is the King's son." Sapnap told him, sincerity clear in his words. Dream was his best friend. 

Dream remained silent, still pondering the day's events as his eyelids grew heavy. 

***

George loved waking up to the sun, he loved the way it would peek through his curtains and gently prod at his eyelids, begging them to open and take in the sun-light world. He would blink and yawn and stretch, preparing for the possibility of a new day. He could hear birds chirping in the trees outside his window, carrying on a conversation with vigour and strife. He could even hear the faint yips of baby birds, calling to their mothers to bring them bugs and worms to eat. 

The Prince was ready in minutes, wearing little clothes, just like yesterday. He thought he might wait and eat breakfast with his family before escaping to the wilderness. He regarded the things he had said to Dream the day before with reflection, he had meant what he said about his parents favoring his brothers over him. But, they were still his family, and he loved them. 

George's relationship with his father wasn't exactly perfect, they just didn't know how to talk to one another. King Technoblade was hotheaded and quick to temper and George did not do well under pressure. Thus being, their personalities did not bode well together and George was not exactly giddy to share a meal with the King of the overworld. He could remember many nights he had stormed out of the dining room with a disgruntled look, stiff as a board after just receiving a nagging from his father about how he was too bookish or how he wasn't athletic or how he spent too much time away from home. It got tiring after a while. 

Maybe it wouldn't be too bad, George thought as he made his way to the dining room. After all, Wilbur and Eret were sure to draw their father's attention long enough to finish a meal. 

George jumped when a hand touched his shoulder, turning to find a giggling Eret. 

"That is not funny, Eret." George grumbled, his face turning sour and his posture hunching. Eret smirked, still laughing. The second prince of the overworld was donned in black trousers and a light pink, frilly shirt decorated with red strawberries.

"I missed you too, little brother." Eret remarked, embracing George in a bone-crushing hug. George reluctantly returned it. 

"You on your way to breakfast? Because I heard from one of the maids that father is in a mood. Something about certain lords and ladies from the kingdom complaining about hoards of riches and expensive goods being stolen." Eret told him as they pulled away. George grimaced, breakfast would not be as smooth as he had hoped. 

"I'll go anyway, mother would be annoyed if I skipped another meal." 

"I'll go with you, it won't be that bad if we are together." Eret told him, wrapping a slender arm around his brother's shoulders and steering the both of them in the directing of the dining room. 

They pushed open the huge, decorated door, the metal handle clanking loudly against the wood with the movement of the door. The large table at the center of the room was decorated with plates of steaming food, the high windows of the hall let in goads of sunlight, lighting up the colorful tapestries that hung along the walls. 

The king and queen sat at the end of the table, the King at the head and his wife next to him on the left side. Wilbur sat across from his mother, his plate already filled with food. All three of them turned, smiling as they saw George and Eret. Well, the Queen and Wilbur smiled, the King eyed the pair, particularly George, with disinterest. 

"Good morning you two, it's so lovely to have all my family under the same roof once again." The queen beamed, standing up to hug both her sons as they approached the table. 

George sat next to his mother while Eret went around the table and pulled out the chair next to Wilbur. George spared a glance at his father, who sat rigidly in his grand chair, his face hardened into one of annoyance or irritation. George sighed, turning his attention to the vibrant table cloth after spreading his napkin in his lap. He reached towards the center of the table, scooping some eggs onto his plate. 

"Where did you run off to yesterday, George? I hardly saw you in the morning and didn't see you come home. We could have used your help with preparations for your birthday party." His mother chided, sipping the liquid in her lavish goblet. George turned to her, warmth filling his heart with thoughts of his paradise. 

"I spent the day in the woods, it's simply ethereal there this time of year." George spoke, his eyes lighting up. His mother gave him a smile, pride shimmering behind her eyes, though George did not notice. George turned back to his food, feeling a little better than when he came in. That feeling subsided as his father's booming voice rang through the hall. 

"Did you see anything interesting in the forest, George? Anyone perhaps." His father questioned, sipping from his goblet. George stiffened, memories of the masked man flashing through his head, a fuzzy feeling grazing his skin where the Dream's arms had wrapped around him as they lifted him out of the pond, saving him from a watery death. Ice ran through his veins as his father locked eyes with him, sending his son a questioning glance at his hesitation. 

"No, I did not." George said, ripping his eyes away from his fathers, he felt sure he would crumble under his iron gaze. His voice was stiff and strained as he lied right through his teeth. He was so nervous at the possibility of his father discovering Dream, that it almost slipped his mind how unusual the King's question was. His father almost never took interest in the things George did. Pushing down his nerves, George caving into his curiosity; he just had to know. 

"Why do you ask?" George questioned, this time his words held a smidge more confidence, but he could still not meet those hard eyes. 

"Oh nothing, it's just that lately I have been hearing complaints from some of the wealthier citizens that their carriages and caravans had been raided and ransacked, the gold and riches within were stolen. None have confirmed it but some say that these 'attacks' are carried out by a group of vigilantes and outcasts, lead by a man that goes by an alias. Dream, I think it was. What a peculiar title, what I would give to find his real name. Anyway, I have sent orders to double the number of soldiers I have patrolling that forest, better to clear away these criminals before they do any serious damage to the kingdom." The king said, a look of vengeance and challenge etched into his face. 

The rest of the King's words faded away, George stopped breathing when Dream's name left his father's lips. Worry and fear shot through him like ice and his stomach turned, what if they found Dream? George wasn't even concerned at the amount of emotion that filled him for someone he had only met yesterday, the man had saved his life. He felt like he had his first chance at friendship in a long time, and George did not want it ripped away from him. If Dream and his team continued their assault upon the ladies and lords of the overworld, he would be punished severely, maybe even killed if he was caught. 

George remained stiff for the rest of breakfast, excusing himself early, his appetite gone. He couldn't risk sneaking back out to the forest, but he couldn't just sit all day in his room and fret. He decided to busy himself with helping his mother prep the ballroom for the party. He also helped Marco tailor his new outfits, anything to focus on instead of the thought of Dream fighting soldiers in the forest. 

George did not sleep well that night, his dreams burdened with the thought of blood splattered across that pale white mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me quite a while to write, I wrote half of it instead of doing civics homework. 
> 
> I will try to update every week but I might not be able to, some chapters take much longer to write than others. 
> 
> Thanks for reading :)  
> xoxo  
> -sad_snail


	4. Chapter 4

Prince George's twentieth birthday was quite the event, lords and ladies from all around had gathered for the night, decorated with opulent outfits. An array of royal colors and dainty lace frivolously swirled together in a rather dramatic display of wealth, power, and status. George was infuriatingly bored, and tremendously tired, having spent the last hour and a half standing as stiff as a board. His fancy corset was becoming increasingly tight and the frills at the top of his collar were scratching his neck pushing him to reach a hand up and adjust the tight fabric. And on top of all that, the golden ballroom was growing stuffy and hot. The air felt stale and humid in George's mouth, he yearned for an excuse to step out. 

Fortunately, the Prince was able to distract himself with thoughts of his secret (and possibly illegal) friend. He could recall one too many times that his mother had to regain her son's attention after he fell into hopeless daydreams of a deep voice and strong arms so that he could say hello to another ancient, posh, and definitely snobby lady with big hair and an even bigger skirt. 

George glanced somberly out one of the massive windows that lined the walls of the ballroom, it was a clear night and the Prince longed to step out onto one of the private balconies and gaze at the stars. He turned his head away from the window and locked eyes with Wilbur, who had apparently been watching him. Wilbur set his tall glass down on one of the trays that the waiters were carting around and walked over to his little brother. 

"Go. I'll distract mother while you slip away. Be quick and quiet." Wilbur whispered to him with a devious smirk. George beamed, thanking him. Wilbur winked and left his brother, placing an arm on his mother's shoulder, and turned her away, telling her about some game that he had won. He looked back long enough to see George mouth a 'thank you' before slipping through the archway and out onto the balcony. 

George breathed in deep, thankful for the clear spring air as it filled his lungs. He moved to the side of the balcony out of sight and leaned against the railing, smiling with content as he looked down upon the gardens. The flowers seemed to glow under the moonlight. 

He let his mind wander, finally resting on thoughts of Dream. The man was all he was able to think about lately, much to George's annoyance. He hoped desperately that the man was ok. George signed and ran a hand through his hair in desperation.  
The night was beautiful, the stars were sparse as they shone in the sky like pinpricks in fabric, they seemed to go on and on, curving with the inky expanse and disappearing behind the horizon. He could spend hours out here with his neck craned upwards, mapping the twinkling dots. George closed his eyes, feeling the slight breeze slow through his hair and hearing the leaves rustle and the crickets chirp. 

The night was beautiful, the stars were sparse as they shone in the sky like pinpricks in fabric, they seemed to go on and on, curving with the inky expanse and disappearing behind the horizon. He could spend hours out here with his neck craned upwards, mapping the twinkling dots. George closed his eyes, feeling the slight breeze slow through his hair and hearing the leaves rustle and the crickets chirp. 

George jumped when he heard a voice ring out close behind him. 

"What's the Prince of the overworld doing out here all alone?" Dream's hearty voice filled the night air. George whipped around, finding the assailant crouching down on the railing, hidden from the party goers, but only barely. 

"Dream!? What are you doing here?!" George yelled, too loud to not be overheard by the guests inside. He just stood there, staring in shock as the man he had fretted over for almost five days stood before him, perfectly fine and grinning like a cat. George's eyes widened as he heard someone walking towards them, still obscured by the billowing curtains in the archway of the balcony. He suspected his mother, he had been gone a while now and he figured she would come searching for him. 

His suspicion was confirmed when he heard the Queen's voice call his name. He could see her silhouette behind the curtain and he realized that both he and Dream would become visible if she just pushed the fabric aside. 

He took a quick glance towards the party before practically running towards Dream and grabbing his hand, yanking it with him before the masked man could utter another word. He pulled them towards a little hidden cove at the side of the balcony, not visible from the archway but large enough to fit both of them. He shoved Dream in before him, the man let out a noise of surprise before George covered his mouth with his hand, wide eyes staring into his. All they heard for a minute was the sound of their ragged breaths mingling. 

George relaxed as he heard his mother's footsteps receding before they disappeared altogether. He turned his head and was met with the mask, stepping back and removing his hand. 

"You idiot, what are you doing here? If they catch you, you'll surely be sent to jail. The word of the youngest prince is hardly enough to pardon you from prison or even death. How did you even get here, there are guards at every post." George half yelled, keeping his voice low enough to not be heard but enough to scold. 

Dream smiled sheepishly, his eyes hidden behind the mask. 

"It wasn't too hard, just snuck past the guards and climbed up the lattice. I actually was surprised you didn't hear me, I made quite a bit of noise. You looked to be deep in thought." Dream speculated, speaking as though they weren't almost caught by the Queen herself. George ran a hand over his face, hiding a smile.

"Wanted to see you." Dream said, his voice small and his head turned towards the ground. George blinked, not really believing his ears. He winced at the funny feeling in his chest, warm and fizzy. 

"I spend the better part of a week fretting about you getting caught by one of Father's soldiers only for you to infiltrate the castle itself, on MY birthday, a day where there are soldiers nearly every ten feet, just because you wanted to see me?!" George said in disbelief, he half expected to wake up and have this whole thing be a dream. Dream just stared at him. 

"You were worried about me?" The man asked, a tender hopefulness in his voice. George sighed. 

"That's not the point you moron, the point is that your stupid arse decided the raid half of the people in the ballroom right next to us then you foolishly decide to drop by and say hello to me." George grumbled, knowing his words were empty in their malice. 

Dream ran a hand over his neck before perking up. 

"Hey George, I have another birthday present for you." Dream said, peeking his head out of the cove and looking back and forth before stepping out. George remained silent, his attention captured. He watched Dream climb onto the railing and set into the same position as before. The man reached his hand out to the Prince who stared at him with interest. 

"Come with me." Dream said, not asking. 

"I can't, my mother surely will be worrying where I am." George argued, knowing that it was pointless. 

"Come on Georgie, we'll be back before you know it." George fixed him with a speculative stare, hiding the faint blush that had graced his face at the nickname. 

"You can trust me." Dream stated, his voice clear and sure. George caved, walking over and slipping his small hand into Dream's. Dream smiled. 

"Wrap your arms around my neck." Dream instructed, making George's eyes widen. "Just do it." the man told him, his voice demanding. George complied, encircling his torso and gripping, almost like a hug. 

Dream reached out and grasped along the vines that trailed up the side of the building, pulling a rope that George had not seen from under some leaves. He wrapped the rope around his hand and snuck his other one around the Prince's waist, holding tight. 

George gasped as Dream jumped off the balcony, the two of them fell for a second before being jerked up by the rope. George's arms tightened around Dream, burying his face in the man's chest so as to not look down. The swinging sensation ended and George felt the man place him upon solid ground, though he kept his arms tight and his eyes closed shut. 

He heard, more like felt, Dream laugh and he released him quickly, his face surly red. He could smell pine and honey again, the scent sickeningly sweet and calming in his nose. He cleared his throat, looking toward the ground awkwardly. 

Dream's head shot around, George followed his gaze and his eyes widened, his mother and a few other people stood at the edge of the balcony, looking down. Dream grabbed his hand and pulled both of them behind a bush, concealing the pair before the Queen could spot them. Goerge watched through the bush as his mother turned and left the balcony once more. 

Might as well keep going, George thought. Do something for once in his life. 

George looked down to see that his hand was still clasped in Dream's, he could feel the warmth and rough skin through his white glove. Dream untwined his hand, looking around. George's hand felt cold without his. He removed his gloves, tucking them in his pocket. 

"Come on, let's go before they come back." Dream said, his voice giddy and excited. He broke a branch off a tree overhead and wrapped a strip of cloth around the top of it. Then, he reached around his hip, unclasping a vial from his satchel, popping the cork, and drenching the cloth with the clear liquid. Dream pulled a flint and steel from within the depths of his leather bag and stroke it, in a minute the torch was ablaze, George could feel the burning heat from where he squatted. 

Dream stood and George followed, rising to his feet shakily, still a bit wobbly from all the swinging around. Dream surprised him by taking his hand once more, pulling him towards the forest, causing George to stubble and run to keep up with the man whose legs were quite longer than his. 

George smiled as he was pulled through the woods, seeking looks at the full moon and stars through patches in the trees. He knew where Dream was taking him, he had been there so many times. He felt joy rise in him at the thought of returning to the shimmering pond and the willow tree. 

George frowned as Dream took a left turn instead of a right, taking the two of them off the path and away from their spot. 

"Where are we going?" He asked, pulling on Dream's hand to stop him. Dream raised his eyebrows, George could tell he was smirking behind the mask. 

"Just trust me, you won't regret it."

"I doubt that." George mumbled under his breath as they resumed their journey through the forest. 

After a few minutes, they stopped at a huge oak tree. George let his eyes wander up the twirling branches, adorned with leaves of every shape and size. The tree was magnificent, it stretched probably fifty feet in the air and the base was wide and thick. George ran his hand along the trunk, the bark felt old and rough beneath his palm. The air seemed to vibrate around the massive organism, the night seemed alive. 

"This is what you wanted to show me?" He asked.

"This and one more thing." Dream told him as he wrapped a hand around one of the low hanging branches, swinging his body up and on top of it. George watched with amusement. "Climb with me, Georgie." He offered, before placing the torch, still ablaze, between his teeth in a way that made George weak in the knees. 

George obliged, scrambling up another branch and ascending to the top, following the masked man. Once or twice George almost lost his footing but Dream caught him, hoisting him back to balance. 

Dream eventually ceased climbing, perching on an intersection of branches, waiting for the Prince to join him with the torch now back in his hand. When he did, George gasped at what he saw and a smile broadened his face. 

Hidden inside a hole in the trunk was a little bird's nest, twigs and pine straw sticking out at odd angles and giving the nest a cozy look. George cooed when he saw three little chicks peek their heads out. They barely had any feathers and were skinny as twigs and kind of freaky but George thought they were adorable all the same. 

He tore his gaze away from the babies and felt his face grow hot when he was Dream looking at him. They were sitting awfully close on the branch and George could feel warmth radiating off the man. 

George could see that Dream's mask was slightly askew, his chin and bottom lip were visible and George didn't think that Dream missed the way his eyes shot down his mouth. The could practically see the fire's reflection in the white mask, almost oragon under the red hot inferno, posing a great contrast to the other side of his face which was glowing silver under the moon. 

George felt desire bubble within him, hot and almost unbearable. His hand reached up of its own accord, George felt he could do nothing to stop it, even if he wanted to. Dream remained silent as George touched the corner of his mask, the porcelain smooth under his fingertips. 

"Can I?" George asked, his voice less than a whisper. Dream only nodded, and George feared that the man could hear how loud his heart was beating beneath his chest. 

Slowly, almost too slow, George lifted the mask and pulled it away from Dream's face.

He was beautiful, George thought as he gazed at the man before him, his angular face and golden hair illuminated in the moonlight like an entity. His jaw was strong and chiseled, his eyes were the deepest green he had ever seen and George knew he could spend hours counting every freckle that dotted his nose and cheeks. There was a thin layer of sweat that graced the sides of his angelic face, George wanted to lick it away. Dream swolled, George's eyes followed the movement, the man's adam's apple bobbing with his throat. He wondered what the skin of the man's neck would feel under his lips. 

George found himself staring for longer than normal and he averted his eyes, not wanting Dream to be uncomfortable at his increasing infatuation. 

"I'm not disappointing am I?" Dream asked with a teasing smile. 

"No," George said way too fast, "it's just that I've never seen someone so-so..." He trailed off, not wanting to finish his thought. Dream gave a questioning look but didn't ask. 

Dream looked back to the birds, who had just begun the chirp, probably wanting their mother. George found that he almost forgot the babies were there. Dream wiggled his finger over them, they lifted their heads and one of them touched his finger with its beak, nipping at his skin. Dream giggled, lightly petting the curious one on his head. George also reached out and touched one on its head, distracting himself with the little creatures. 

"Happy Birthday Georgie." Dream whispered, his voice way closer to George's ear than he remembered, wafting through his mind like honey, sweet and warm and rich. George shivered, this wasn't good for him. 

He backed away, scooting backward to put some distance between him and Dream. George turned to the sky, the view of the stars was breathtaking from here. The clouds were sparse and the night was littered with bright spots, filling George's eyes and leaving him enchanted. He lifted a finger, tracing the constellations he knew, making new ones out of the ones he did not. 

When he was little, his mother would take him out at night and they would sit in a field near the house and map the stars. They were some of his fondest memories but the Queen did not seem to have enough time to do that with her son anymore, or maybe she just thought he was too old. Still, the golden memories played in his head, giving him a bittersweet feeling. 

George heard the high squawk of a bird and he whipped his head around, just in time to see a huge hawk land on the nest and hiss at Dream, who was quickly backing away, surprise and fear imminent on his face. 

"Go! GO!." Dream yelled, already halfway down the tree. George followed suit, half climbing, half falling through the tangled limbs. He could hear Dream scream before he made contact with the ground and something else. 

"Oof." George let out as he landed right on top of Dream, who warily ]stuck his arms out just before the Prince fell onto him. George saw stars for a moment before he closed his eyes completely, it felt like all the air had been sucked out of him. his head was pounding behind with eyeballs, it felt like his heart had jumped to his brain. 

"Ouch." Dream rasped after a moment, pushing George off of him lightly. Dream looked to George when he heard the Prince start to giggle. Dream joined him as his chuckles grew into full-blown laughter, both of them wheezing on the ground, bracing themselves not eh floor with the palms of their hands'. 

"You... You should have seen your face," George said between laughs, a goofy grin spreading across his face, his stomach had started to ache and it was becoming increasingly difficult to suck in enough air to not suffocate. George clutched his stomach, bending over on the ground, still heaving with bouts of laughter. Dream just wheezed louder, whipping tears from his eyes. 

Their laughter eventually died out and the two of them were left lying on the ground, heads next to each other, bodies opposite. George felt a nagging at the side of his skull and he gave into his itching urge to turn his head and let his eyes find Dream's handsome face. The man's gaze was locked upwards, his pupils were huge and George could see the stars in his eyes, a glassy reflection of the heavens above. The man's side profile was almost as clean-cut and lovely as the front of his face. George resisted the boiling urge to reach up and run his finger along that sharp jaw, it might just cut him. Time seemed to melt away as he beheld the man next to him. George almost forgot to blink. 

Dream had a quiet smile on his face, the Prince found his eyes tracing the wrinkles that formed with the man's expression. There was something dangerously captivating about Dream, George feared that it might become an increasingly annoying problem. George returned his gaze to the stars, not wanting to seem creepy. 

"What are you thinking about Georgie?" Dream asked after a moment, his clear voice ringing through the night. 

"Why do you want to know?" George pried, his voice laced with hints of defence. 

"I just want to know." The Prince almost rolled his eyes. 

"I was thinking about you." George admitted, despite his hesitation. Dream finally turned his head, fixing his companion with a look of confusion. 

"Oh really? What about me are you pondering?" George hesitated. 

"I, um, I was just thinking about what my father said about you." George told him, though his head was actually filled with the sound of Dream's voice or the way his eye gleamed in the dark or the way his hair fell across his head, framing his face and making him look way too attractive. But those things were not to be spoken out loud, especially not from the high prince of the overworld. 

"Really, what might that be?" Dream asked, his words puiqeyed with interest. 

"The other day at breakfast he was rambling on about how you and a group were raiding the wealthy. He declared you a 'threat to the people' and 'a dangerous outlaw that would stop at nothing to see innocent people suffer'. " George echoed, making finger quotes in the air. Dream regarded him with a pondering look. 

"And yet you are here, sitting under the stars, unprotected and vulnerable with me." Dream said, more to himself than to George, like he couldn't believe it. Even though Dream's question did not require an answer, he gave one anyway. 

"Yeah, I guess I am." Dream just stared at him, his face a mix of mild surprise and curiosity.

It was true, George did not know why he was so relaxed in the presence of someone that was basically a stranger and an outlaw of the kingdom. The thought that Dream was only trying to get close to him as a gateway to the king but that thought dissolved as he remembered that Dream had saved his life. He could be faking it, slowly gaining the Prince's trust before welding it as a weapon, but that idea seemed so outlandish and rotten, it left a bad taste in his mouth. 

"Oh shit!" George spat, shooting up and making Dream jump and do the same. "Its so late, I gotta get back." He brushed his coat off, before setting towards the woods, completely forgetting his companion in his haste. 

"Wait!" Dream practically yelled, much too loud for a person standing less than a foot in front of him.Dream lunged towards the prince grabbing his hand, causing him to whip around. George fixed him with a baffled stare. 

"I- um, I'll go with you." Dream said, stumbling over his words. George blanked, his face suddenly feeling hot. Dream's hand was big and warm, George could feel Dream's pulse under his fingertips. 

Dream reluctantly unwove their hands, reaching up to scratch his neck, the awkwardness apparent in his next words, which were shy yet ardent. 

"I'll walk back with you," Dream coughed, eyes shooting everywhere but the man in front of him, "It's just that it's awfully late and I wouldn't want the Prince of the overworld to go waltzing through the forest alone at night." 

George gave him a relaxed smile. 

The walk back to the castle was as pleasant as the evening, though a bit hurried. George couldn't ignore that his and Dream's hand kept brushing in the night, sending pleasant shivers up George's arm and making his stomach fuzzy. George didn't think the man missed how his eyes would flash to his right, stealing glances. George thought he could write an entire book on the way Dream smelled, or the way his shoulders swayed as he walked, or how his fluffy, unruly hair curled at the nape of his neck in a way that made George want to curl his fingers into. George clasped his hands behind his back tightly, he felt that if he didn't that he might give into his newfound desires and lace his hand through the one next to him in a way that had no reasonable explanation. 

Even after pushing the growing yearn deep into the recesses of his mind, George found that the small smile on his face that had grown over the duration of their walk, didn't seem to want to fade. He was happy, he finally had a friend. It was arguably the best birthday he had ever had, the last hour spent with Dream felt more real and genuine than anything had his George's life for a long time. 

Their walk came to an end, feeling much too short for George's liking. They stopped about fifty feet before the castle wall, still slightly hidden by the forest. Dream turned to him, the corners of his lips turned up in a way that made George want to stand on his tippy-toes and kiss him. He swallowed, feeling his face heat at his thoughts. 

"I really hope you don't get in trouble." Dream remarked sheepishly. 

"It would have been worth it." George told him, his words clearer than he had thought he could make them be. His heart started to pick up at their closeness. Dream's eyes widened. 

George's eyes flashed upwards, there was a small leaf tucking into Dream's hair, just above his forehead. George's hand reached up with out thinking, he plucked the leaf from the curls and flicked it away before lowering his hand, but not before brushing Dream's temple with his finger, feeling the soft skin beneath his fingers. Dream had a bit of baby hair on his cheek, George was reluctant to pull away. 

Dream's eyes where wide as saucers, it seemed that he had stopped breathing. George looked away bashfully, mumbling something about a leaf in his hair. 

"Thank you for tonight," George spoke after a second of almost awkward silence, his voice was low, "I really enjoyed it." God, he was talking as though Dream had just taken him for a date. Dream's eyes wrinkled as he smiled, George felt his chest clench in a way that almost had his knees buckling. He wished he could see Dream smile like that every waking second, it was honestly unfair how much George wanted to stay in this exact moment, smiling up at Dream like an idiot under the stars. But, George realized with deep reluctance, everything had to end sometime or another. 

The two said their goodbyes, George had to force the words out of his mouth, and Dream disappeared into the night, just as he had done days ago. George stood staring at the stop Dream had stood moments before, his intoxicating smell still prevalent in the night air, it curled around George like a warm hug. He let his eyelids fall, tilting his head back, a strange sort of grin ghosting his features. 

George brought his wrist up to his mouth, he could still feel where Dream's hand had clasped around his skin, burning his palm into his flesh like a brand. If he tried hard enough, he thought, he could still feel the way the man's fingers pressed into his skin, slightly above the base of his palm, right over the blue veins that peeked through. He wondered if Dream could feel his pulse as he was pulled through the night by the alluring stranger. 

He shivered, the world now a little bit colder without Dream and his torch. George recalled the way Dream had ceased breathing when he had unmasked him, had he been nervous?

George couldn't answer his question as he sneaked past the great walls of the palace and up to his window. He pushed it open with caution, it tended to creak. George hoped through the window, landing swiftly on his feet. 

When he turned his back to close the glass doors, a voice sounded behind him and he jumped on the spot. 

"George!" the voice hissed, George now saw that it was Wilbur, standing by his door,not visible from the window. Wilbur marched over to him, his face angry. George could only stare in shock. 

"Where were you?! I had to lie my ase off the whole night because you failed to reappear after I let you sneak onto the balcony!" He seethed, keeping his voice low. George stumbled over his words, he was speechless and a little terrified. He knew that Wilbur wouldn't tell their parents but George always hated it when his brother was mad at him. 

"I just went for a little walk in the forest and got lost." He lied through his teeth. It was some-what believable, George never was very good with direction. Wilbur eyed him warily, but backed off. 

He sighed, "Just be a little more careful next time, with all the Dream nonsense, father would have been furious if he had found you had been galavanting through the forest at night." He grumbled, running a hand over his face. George felt regret coil in his stomach, he didn't mind lying to his parents but Wilbur was his brother, he always stood up for him. 

George tentatively placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, who just looked at him. 

"Thank you, I usually don't have much fun on my birthdays but tonight was nice. I owe you one." He told him. Wilbur smiled and pet his hand before leaving with wishes of a goodnight and one last 'Happy Birthday'. 

George slept better than he ever had that night, his slumber was dreamless and he woke the next day feeling happier than he had in a long time. 

***

Dream slept in the tree that hung low over his and Sapnap's tent that night, wanting to feel as close to the way he had felt with George. The had followed George's outstretched hand as he lined the stars, seemingly without his knowing. 

When George had removed his mask, Dream felt vulnerable, one edge and a little scared, but he had never felt more alive. Something had grown between him and the Prince, something warm and sweet. He could feel it in the air any time looked at each other. He could hear it in their words exchanged, he felt it when George smiled or when he laughed, a dull ache that resonated within his body and made his chest go tight. He would let George do anything to him, and the feeling was equally terrifying as it was exillerating.

When he told Sap this, his best friend had looked at him like he was crazy and told his that what he was feeling was probably no more than adrenaline and maybe spite at the King, for he had practically stolen his son on his Birthday. Dream had nodded, saying that's probably what it was and that he shouldn't look into it. 

After all, Dream was a lowlife, forced to steal and pillage innocents in order to provide for his gathering, who lived in the woods and hadn't had a bath in weeks. George could never view him in a romantic light, he would probably be next to disgusted at the thought of it. That was what Dream told himself as he lay stretched out in a tangle of branches, gazing at the sky in a way he never had before, but he couldn't bring himself to believe his words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry almost Christmas guys! 
> 
> Again, I want to thank everyone that has read my story and left comments under the chapters, it quite possibly the best gift I have ever received for the holidays. 
> 
> You guys are amazing and I honestly couldn't be happier. 
> 
> So thank you all and have a lovely Christmas, or whatever Holiday you celebrate. 
> 
> xoxo,  
> -sad_snail :)


	5. Chapter 5

The forest air was still and calm as Dream sat perched on a branch. His bow was strung taught in his grasp, a gleaming arrow perched between the fine-carven wood and the tight string. The sharp tip of the sinew projective was aimed at a dirt road, a road that Dream knew a dark purple-clad carriage would be appearing on in a few moments, unaware and wonderfully incognizant of what would happen to it. 

Dream made eye contact with Sapnap, who was squatting on a branch in the tree next to him. Sap raised his eyebrows, silently asking if it was time. Dream shook his head slightly, he would give the signal when the carriage appeared. It was just the two of them on this raid, they didn't need much and Dream loved having his best friend by his side, like the days when they were younger and the whole world was against them. Sapnap had stuck with Dream through thick and thin, and Dream was forever grateful. 

Sap took a moment to adjust his white headband, which was almost buried in his crazy black hair. He was an exceptional fighter, Dream had witnessed his friend take on three endermen at once with nothing but an almost dead shield and a stone axe, and emerge victorious with just a few bruises and scrapes. Sapnap had saved Dream's ass more times than he could count, and vice versa. 

Dream perked up and pulled his bow tighter when he heard the sounds of wooden wheels bumping along a shabby dirt road. Sapnap's eyes went wild and he looked at Dream to let him know when to go. Dream shook his head once again, not yet. The carriage was getting closer now, he could almost see all of it through the tangled trees and colorful leaves, elegant gold framing with four heavily groomed horses pulling it along. It was being followed by a caravan of iron-clad soldiers. 

This made Dream furrow his brows. Though this was expected, it would make things harder. He took a moment and devised a plan. 

He caught Sapnap's attention and instructed him to run towards the carriage, staying behind the treeline, and make lots of noise, so as to draw the soldiers' attention and maybe bring them away from what they were guarding. He would run back through the forest once he caught their attention and then ender pearl into a tree to escape them and circle back to the carriage. They would have a little bit of time before the guards returned, the perfect amount to do what they needed to. 

Sapnap gave him a devilish look, nodding his head in enthusiasm. 

Once all of the carriage came into view, Dream brought his hand down, giving Sapnap the signal to go. Sap flashed him a smile before he jumped through the trees, landing with a thump and taking off, whooping and hollering, giddy with delight. 

Dream smiled, no one could do this but his friend. He had instructed him specifically not to hurt the guards, but if Sapnap wasn't quick enough to outrun them and they advanced upon him, he could once of his potions or a snowball. 

The guards looked to their right as Sapnap ran past them, he fired an arrow that purposefully whizzed over their heads. This caused them to draw their weapons and advance towards him. Sapnap raised his eyebrows in mocking and took off into the forest, still screaming insults and obscenities towards his entourage, his voice high as a madman. 

The soldiers disappeared into the forest, leaving the carriage lonely on the dirt road. 

Dream drew his bow again. When the angle was just right, he released his arrow, making sure to avoid the horses and the arrow hit one of the front wheels dead on, causing the whole chariot to stumble. The driver yanked on the reins in a flurry, pulling the horses so that they led the carriage to the side, trying to win the fight against gravity and keep the chassis upright. The carriage came to a halting stop at the side of the road, a hair's breadth away from crashing in a tree or flipping over. 

Once he was sure that the coast was clear, Dream flipped over the branch and swung through the tree until his feet landed on the ground below. His knees bent, bracing for a reaction from the carriage he had just brought down. This car was supposed to only be for the transportation of goods, but you never know. 

Dream crept closer to the purple carriage, keeping low to the ground and hugging the trees. Now that he had a more clear view of the wreckage, the driver had been thrown from his seat at the top of the car and he was lying motionless on the ground.

Dream frowned, hanging his bow behind his back as he tip-toed, reaching inside his satchel and unwinding a small glass vial. He had carried this potion for quite some time, never having an opportunity to use it. It was a special brew, a mixture of a sleeping potion and a healing one. He had always kept it on his person, knowing he might need it. He was glad that he had it now, he hadn't planned on anyone getting hurt. 

He approached the unconscious man quickly, if he had a concussion then he would need to administer the potion quickly, so as to stop any further brain damage or injury. He knelt besides the man, bringing the potion to his lips and emptying the contents down his throat. The man let out a grunt before going slack again, Dream knew the healing factor was taking effect. He set the man back down gently before replacing the bottle and standing. 

He decided to take care of the horses first, it wouldn’t be long before the soldiers returned so he needed to act fast. 

He approached the animals with caution, he let one of them sniff his hand before he placed it upon its snout. The horse snorted at him, making Dream chuckle. He rubbed the soft skin soothingly, whispering sweet nothings to the large animal. The mare bowed its head in recognition, it would not hurt him. 

Working quickly, Dream had the entire carriage stripped clean in just under five minutes. It wasn't much, just some gold crusted chairs, a few pearl necklaces, and five stacks of saying fabric dyed the brightest colors. One of the fabrics was a rich blue, it reminded Dream of George, sending a little flutter to his chest. 

Dream was momentarily distracted, George's blue cape that he had been wearing when they first met stepped forth in his mind, he thought of how well the color contrasted with the Prince' pale skin. 

His forehead tingled where George had graced his elegant finger across it the night before when he had picked a leaf out of his hair. Dream was sure that he looked like a fool standing there awestruck at how soft the Prince's fingers were.He remembered with a tingle how those petal-soft fingertips had made contact with his skin, stayed for a moment, then retreated in a way that made Dream want to grab George and kiss the air out of him right then and there. 

The thought had paralyzed him for a moment and Dream was sure that he had stopped breathing. 

George was all he had been able to think about as of late, Dream was sure that a raid would take his mind off the man, even a small one. But alas, there he stood, his eyes glazed over and his head slowly filling with pictures of the starry-eyed Prince. 

Dream ran a hand over his face, this was becoming increasingly distracting. 

After clearing out the car, Dream walked back to the horses, which were standing silent and peaceful. He made contact with the one before, the horse lifted his nose in greeting. 

Dream turned to his right as he heard rustling behind the trees. He drew his bow, ready for an attack in case Sapnap was unsuccessful in drawing the soldiers away. He relaxed as he saw his friend bounding trough the trees and across the road, a few minor scratches here and there but thankfully unhurt. 

"Oh come on Dream, do you not have any faith in me?" Sapnap joked in mock offense, seeing that Dream had drawn an arrow. Dream rolled his eyes. 

"Let's just get the stuff and go, the guards will be back soon." He said and they saddled the horses. Sapnap and he would ride two of them, another they tied the loot to, and they set the fourth one free, it would only slow them down. They took off right as the soldiers were emerging from the forest. The men yelled after them as they sped away laughing.

Though in the past Dream had had some misfortunes with horses, he found that he quite liked the steed he had chosen to ride, the beast was gentle and calm, yet Dream could tell that he was powerful and resilient. 

Once they were back at the camp, the horses were sent to be properly saddled and groomed, the chairs were sent to be stripped of their gold so that they could melt it down and forge armor, weapons, golden apples, and lots of other things. The rest of the items were placed in a storage wagon to be bartered with traders on the coast. 

Dream could relax now, it had been a good day. He found himself at the edge of the camp, after the commotion had settled. He climbed up into another tree, closed his eyes and laid back, a warm feeling blossoming as pictures of brown hair and a bright smile filled the darkness behind his eyes. 

***

The cream colored paper of the book felt gritty and familiar under George's fingertips as he turned the page. His back was hunched and his eyes were glued to the volume in his hand, it was an extensive and comprehensive list of all the known birds and their features. He had read this particular book a few times before and he had pulled it off of the highest self on his book case in order to distract himself. All the emotions swirling and mixing around in his stomach, he needed something to take his mind off so that he wouldn't anger consume him and end up doing something he would undoubtedly regret. 

As his eyes followed the words written in inky black, he found that they went in one ear and out the other. He had read an entire page and discovered that he couldn't remember a single factor of information and had to go back and read it again. 

He slammed the cover in frustration, the action eliciting a muffled thump that sounded through his bedroom chamber. He tossed the book aside on his bed and threw himself backwards in disgruntlement, landing with a soft but rather dramatic bounce as an exasperated sign flew past his lips. He ran his hands through his hair and pulled, this was growing difficult and tiring. He covered his eyes with his palms, they were clammy and cold, a side effect that usually accompanied nervousness for the Prince. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push back the wave of tears he knew was coming. Crying was all he could seem to do lately, and it was exhausting to say the least. 

He buried his face in his pillows, trying in vain to shove down the painful memory that was threatening to resurface. The morning following his birthday, his father and mother had summoned him to the reception hall early in the morning.

__

_ When he had entered the hall, he found his mother seated at the table, wringing her hands so hard it probably hurt. His father stood at one of the windows, his back turned in a way that made George uneasy. He was dressed lavishly, a purple cape hung from his shoulders and his long pink hair was clasped at the base of his neck in a way that made him look intimidating and terrifying at the same time.  _

_ George just stood awkwardly at the door for a moment, waiting for something to happen. He could feel tension in the air like a haze, he could taste it on his tongue and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand erect. He shut the door with a thud, crossing his arms and hunching his back defensively.  _

_ The King finally turned, making a tsking sound with his mouth as he slowly advanced upon his son. _

_ "Is there something you want to tell us George?" he inquired, his words calculating and smooth. George felt his face grow pale. He opened his mouth to reply but no words came forth, he could only stutter and continue to stare and his father in growing fear and shock.  _

_ "Because I think you do." The king's words rang out, loud and strong. George backed up as King Technoblade kept walking toward him, his footsteps almost as terrifying as the words that he spoke next.  _

_ "Last night I was out in the garden, inspecting the landscape, and I witnessed something interesting," George remained silent, fear coursing through his veins like ice, freezing him on the spot and renderinging him at a complete loss for words. When he did not say anything, his father continued, turning away and walking towards the center of the room, his back now faced towards his son.  _

_ "Did you, the Prince of the Overworld and son to the mighty King Technoblade, willingly go gallivanting off into the forest with the Kingdom's largest and most dangerous fugitive?" The king whipped around as the words flew from his lips, his face scrunched in rage, _

_ "The one man that is my sworn enemy, the man that has attacked a plundered our disciples, robbing them of their riches and stripping some of them of their wealth, and yet you run off into the night with his hand clasped in yours. Tell me George," he spat, his face now dangerously close,"Did I see that right or was it just my imagination?"  _

_ George's snarky rebuttal that would surely get him whipped died in his throat as locked gazes with his mother, who was looking just as angry as her husband, but there were hints of disappointment in her eyes. George wanted to sink into the floor and wither away. He felt hot tears prick at the corners of his eyes but he swallowed them away. He would not cry. George crumpled to his knees, shoving his face in his hands. This was not happening.  _

_ The king took George's silence as confirmation.  _

_ "Well then son, you have put me in a tight spot indeed." The king jaunted, stroking his chin, "I can either force the information that I need out of you, or I can punish you and hope that light shines through your head and you willingly provide intel on my adversary." _

_ George sniffled before lifting his head, his eyes shut tight and his head held high, considering how low he felt. He placed his hands in his lap, his mouth pressed in a thin line. He would not crumple and betray his only friend to his father.  _

_ Technoblade held his piercing gaze for a moment more before spinning around with a frustrated growl. He pinched the skin between his eyes before sending his son away with a dramatic flick of his wrist.  _

_ The moment the Prince's bedroom door closed behind him, he snake to his knees once again, his back thudding against the door and his head pressed on top of his forearms, which were wrapped around his legs. _

_ He finally broke down, letting the damn of emotion crumble and crack, breaking away as a rush of remorse and sadness flooded his being. George shivered, dragging his hands up and down his forearms. There was an icy feeling coursing through his body, one that he felt would not melt away if he moved closer to the roaring fireplace.  _

_ He let sorrow completely overcome him and he shoved his head back between his arms, tears flowing like rivers down his face. _

_ It wasn't very long later that he heard soft footsteps outside his room and something pressing against the other side of the door. He inhaled deeply, a small frown finding his face as he recognized his mother's fruity perfume. Why would she be outside his door? He heard her voice squeeze through the door frame, hesitant and feeble. _

_ "George, dear I-" She trailed off. George knew that she wanted to say more and he turned and pressed his face and palm against the wood, but no more words came from the Queen. The only thing George heard after was a small, muffled thump, as if she had pressed her closed fist to the door.  _

_ George kept his face pressed against his bedroom door, even after he heard his mother's footsteps trail away.  _

__

A few days later, George awoke on his bed, the sheets were crumpled uncomfortably underneath him and there was a pillow wrinkle on his left check. He groggily sat up and rubbed his eyes, which were sore from crying. He looked out of his window and saw that it was nighttime, the crescent moon was high in the sky, giving the world below a ghostly appearance. 

He had spent that last few days after his confrontation with his father in his room, locked away. He mostly slept and cried, leaving some time to use the bathroom and eat. His meals were brought up by kitchen maids, who knocked gently on his door every morning and night. He only told them to leave it by his door, his voice a little harsher than he intended but he couldn't bring himself to care. 

God, why had he been so stupid? The thought that someone, least of all his father, could have seen him and Dream did not even blink into his head that night, he was too busy staring at the previously masked man. And now, his and Dream's safety were held limply in the palm of his hand. He had made up his mind the day before that he would not, under any circumstances, reveal any information he had about Dream to his father, not that the intel he had was very valuable, he only knew what Dream looked like. He had already messed so much up already, he would not go that far. 

George jumped slightly in bed as a loud thunder crack sound outside, he hadn't noticed that it had begun to rain. He shuffled out of his covers and moved closer to the fireplace, pulling his thin night shirt tighter around his slim shoulders. He sat down next to the hearth, his legs crossed and his arms wrapped around his figure, hugging himself as he absorbed the warmth of the fire. 

Tap.

Tap.

Tap. 

Sounded from somewhere behind him, quiet at first, but as it grew louder and more frequent, so did George's annoyance. He turned his head around, his eyes widening when he saw a figure crouching outside his window, silhouetted in the pouring rain. 

He jumped up, whipping his head around, searching for something he could use to protect himself. His eyes found the metal fire-poker, he seized it and clutched it fast to his chest, breathing rapid as he scampered to the nearest corner of the room. 

Fear and panic swelled in his mind, replacing the anger and remorse that had filled him for the last few days, his past emotions fueling his adrenaline and making him more alert that he had ever been before. 

The figure waved his arms, he was saying something but George couldn't make it out under the loud drumming of the rain and the ringing in his ears. He pointed to the latch on the window, it seemed that he wanted to open it. This only made George more frightful.

There was something familiar about the intruder, George thought, curiosity getting the best of him. He lowered the poker, leaning closer to the watery window. 

The man's frame was not unlike one George had seen before, his mannerisms, and his voice, hardly discernible but just clear enough, sounded just like one that had sent shivers down his back, flowing into his ears and dripping down his spine as the speaker had shuffled closer to him in the night. 

George realized with a jolt that it was Dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, happy New Year to all. 
> 
> xoxo,  
> sad_snail :)


End file.
